Unlimited Potential
by Queen of Kaos
Summary: OneShot. Trish Stratus was on the verge of saving Randy Orton from becoming the WWE's premiere bad boy. And then she retired. Is there any hope for him now? Or will he be another case of wasted potential?


**Unlimited Potential**

**A/N: So I have other stories that I'm working on, but several surges of inspiration hit me in regaurds to this particular story and it kind of just fell together in about two hours. I haven't done a Trish/Randy story in awhile, so I hope you guys enjoy this little OneShot.**

**For those of you who haven't read my profile page, Vera Roberts and I have started a myspace page to highlight our work. I've also added graphics for our more popular stories, so if you're wondering who inspired our OC characters, check that out. The link is on my profile page, under "homepage."**

**One last thing: This story is dedicated to four people who have really been keeping my spirits high over the last few months with their consistent reviews and PM's: Kim, Reece, Shawn, and Vera - you guys are the coolest! I love you all.**

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How Randy had become the bad boy of the WWE, he really wasn't sure. He hadn't set out to be an asshole, but as he read the pages and pages of ink wasted on analyzing him and his personal troubles, he couldn't help thinking that might be how people saw him.

_"As advanced as Orton's inring skills are, he's that far behind in his personal maturation."_

_"Randy Orton fancies himself as wrestling's "Legend Killer." But, in 2006, the only legacy he has been killing is his own."_

_"We'd love to believe Randy Orton has started to grow up. But the truth of the matter is that he's given people plenty of reasons for skepticism, and his margin for error is slim."_

_"Orton has been in the limelight long enough for me to start to believe that this is just the way he is and possibly the way he will always be."_

Trish Stratus, on the other hand, seemed to be the picture of professional perfection. Even those who didn't put her at the top of their "favorites" list seemed hard pressed to find anything inherently wrong with her. She garnered respect, not by demanding it, but by earning it.

_"It simply isn't possible for a WWE diva to be any more marketable than Trish. So darn sexy and yet tough, with fantastic wrestling skills, and an outgoing, engaging personality."_

_"Trish Stratus is the best female wrestler in the sport's history. Period. No one will ever be able to convince me otherwise."_

_"Stratus is something special. No, she might not be the WWE's MVP or wrestling's biggest star, and she probably never will be. Instead, she'll just have to accept her role as the most complete, competent wrestler on the planet."_

How the baddest of the WWE bad boys had managed to catch the eye of the best of the sport's good girls, nobody was really sure. If he was honest, Randy didn't even know. He had returned from anger management to a spot on the Raw roster, intent on keeping himself out of trouble. She had welcomed him back in the hallway, said things hadn't been the same without him for the last year or so, and then sauntered off in the direction of her own locker room without so much as a look back.

It was a simple gesture, and one that wouldn't normally stick in his head. But the way she had patted his chest when she said it, the smile she had given him, and the giggle that had escaped her throat as the words lilted off of her lips, made Randy think she just might be flirting with him. Of course, he usually thought everyone was flirting with him, so that wasn't really all that different.

It was a whim, really, when he ran into her again after the show and asked her if she needed a ride back to the hotel. She had tucked her hair behind her ears and looked up at him through thick lashes. He thought she had blushed when she accepted. Inexplicably, his hands had trembled so badly when she slid into the soft leather of his car that he had barely been able to start the engine.

He wasn't really known for respecting women in general, and especially the divas. But it wasn't all of them that pissed him off, just the bikini models who had no idea what the hell was going on around them. They wouldn't know a pinfall from a submission, and he found it ludicrous that they should be considered part of the roster at all. But Trish wasn't a mindless diva.

She was a wrestler. Granted, she was hotter than anyone he locked up with on a weekly basis, but from the arena to the hotel, their conversation had been purely professional. They had debated everything from who had the better trainer, to who had the more impressive drop kick. He had tested her knowledge of useless sports entertainment trivia, and she had, in turn, had quizzed him on pop culture knowledge.

The twenty minute drive seemed to last only a few seconds, and he wasn't near ready to let her go when they arrived at the door of her hotel room. He invited her back to his room, thinking they could continuing talking, but she refused, saying that she had a lot to do the next day. She later admitted that she was afraid he would try to make it about more than conversation, and she wasn't interested in being another conquest. Instead, she kissed him softly that night, smiling and blushing when she let herself into the room and closed the door.

Their relationship grew over the next three months, and though she had hinted at the possibility of retiring when her contract ran out, the news that it was definitely going to happen hit Randy harder than he thought it would. Though she assured him that it didn't have to change things for them. Sure, they wouldn't see each other as much, but they could still visit each other in their down time. And for the times when that wasn't possible, she bought them both Side Kicks as a retirement gift to herself.

Randy wasn't convinced, though. He put on the smile and pretended like he agreed, of course. But after she had drifted off to sleep for the night, he had rolled out of the bed and slipped into the hallway. He had learned his lesson after the last time - he wouldn't light up where anyone could catch him. But in the alley behind the hotel, at 3:00 in the morning, he had rolled the joint carefully and sucked it back until his heart rate slowed and his fears began to melt away.

He'd heard more lectures than he could count on how the drugs wouldn't solve his problems. When it came to Randy's "substance abuse issues," it seemed everyone forgot he wasn't completely mentally retarded. He knew it wasn't the answer, but he also knew that it sure as hell helped cloud the questions for awhile. And that was all he needed, just a little time to forget that Trish was all but leaving him in just a few weeks.

Unfortunately, his little reprieve that night had turned into another round of problems. The random drug testing that the company had adopted in the wake of it's new Wellness Program, had evaded him for nearly a year. The day after he had smoked the joint in the alley, his name came up. Even though he would still be allowed to wrestle, he wouldn't get paid for it, and he wouldn't get to do house shows. And that meant he would barely get to see Trish for the final month they were supposed to have together.

The night she won the Women's Championship and retired from professional wrestling, Randy couldn't help but swelling with pride. He wanted to pout, as was his custom when the world was about to fall in on his head. But when she rounded the corner, belt over her shoulder and mascara running down her face, he forget about his own match, let alone the next day, or any of the ones in the future.

As the days passed without her, Randy found himself withdrawing. He wanted to go out with the guys, to spend some time at parties and clubs with his new on-screen partner, Edge. But Trish had asked him, just before she boarded a plane to head back to Toronto, to at least try and keep himself out of trouble. He found himself trying not to disappoint her. He knew his attitude was shit sometimes, but at least he wasn't acting out.

Never a fan of sappy love songs, he had filled his iPod with driving metal anthems, even when Trish teased that he might not have needed 'Sucky Attitude Rehab' if he didn't listen to such angry music. As he let himself into his hotel room, a melodic ballad filled his ears and he rolled his eyes. Even though he had protested ad nauseum, she had managed to sneak one in.

_Dammit, Trish_, he thought as he dropped his bag in the corner of the room.

_I'm here without you, baby, but you're still on my lonely mind. I think about you, baby, and I dream about you all the time. _Was she trying to send him a message? Or was she just letting him know that she understood how he was feeling? Was she really thinking about him? _ I'm here without you, baby, but your still with me in my dreams. And tonight, girl, it's only you and me._

If only it were. If only she were here. Flopping onto the bed, he stared at the ceiling and listened to the next verse. He couldn't say he loved the sappy sound of the song, but he couldn't deny that the words were powerful. _The miles just keep rolling as the people either wave or say hello. I hear this life is overrated, but I hope that it gets better as we go._

He was unaffected by nature, but even as the chorus played on, he felt the tears pressing against the backs of his eyes. There was nothing in the world he hated more than crying. It made him feel weak and useless. Even when he had left her house in Toronto the morning after her last match, he hadn't cried. He had refused to show how deeply he hated to go.

Clenching his fists, he sat up, sniffling and smacking himself in the face a few times. _Everything I know, and anywhere I go. It gets hard, but it won't take away my love. _He rolled his shoulders and wiped his hands over his face. Rifling through his suitcase, he grabbed the one thing he knew would help erase the tears that were still threatening to fall.

The bag of marijuana hiding in his suitcase had been a gift from a friend, a little something to help him through if things to be more than he could handle He knew that it would help. He knew that nobody would have to find out about it. And even if he got caught again, he knew he wasn't going to get fired. He could withstand another suspension, if he had to. He knew it wasn't that big of a deal.

Unfortunately, he also knew that Trish had exhibited an absolutely undeserved amount of faith in him. She had put herself, and her own reputation, on the line for him. The last time he'd gotten caught, the only part he regretted was the disappointed look of hurt in her eyes when she found out. She wanted him to be successful, to acheive his potential. She said that she saw something in him, something that other people didn't get to see, and that she prayed he would see it someday.

He dropped the baggie onto the bedspread and stared at it for a moment. It would be so easy to get away with it. And it would help him feel better. There really was no reason not to roll one small joint, just enough to clear his head and stop the rush of emotions flowing through his body. Trish really didn't need to know.

As if tipped off by some cosmic snitch, Randy's phone began to ring. Picking it up, he smirked and shook his head. "How'd you know?"

Trish giggled slightly. "How'd I know what?"

Randy rolled his shoulders and threw the baggie back into his suitcase. "I miss you," he admitted, sitting on the bed and leaning against the headboard.

_And tonight, girl, it's only you and me._ As they slipped into mundane small talk about what had happened since they talked the night before, Randy put all thoughts of anything other than Trish out of his head. Sure, he was perceived as a bad boy, and maybe with good reason. But Trish believed in him, and as long as she held on to that faith, he thought there just might be hope for him yet.

_"Much like the WWE, we are fond of giving people second chances, and Orton still has tremendous long-term potential."_

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**Credits:**

**1. All quotes in italics pertaining to Randy and Trish's careers come from _The Wrestler_, _Pro Wrestling Illustrated_, and _Inside Wrestling _magazines.**

**2. The song referenced is _Here Without You _by Three Doors Down from the album _Away from the Sun._**

**3. Though I have not included lyrics, the song _Someone Like Me _by Marc Broussard from his album, _Carencro_, was also a heavy inspiration. The chorus of the song says: _If you could love someone like me, there's no end to the possibilities. Hopes and dreams push away the fears and regret. Loving you just lets me know there might be hope for me yet._**


End file.
